


“Who Could Ask You be Unbroken or be Brave Again?“

by Isala_Vhenan



Series: Dragon Age Oneshots [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alienages (Dragon Age), Canon-Typical Violence, City Elf (Dragon Age) Origin, City Elves, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Other, Strong Female Characters, Warden Tabris (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:15:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isala_Vhenan/pseuds/Isala_Vhenan
Summary: This is a continuation of the story for Yara Tabris which can be found under the prompt "Power Has Been Cried by Those Stronger Than Me”
Relationships: Shianni & Female Tabris (Dragon Age), Shianni & Soris & Female Tabris, Soris & Female Tabris (Dragon Age)
Series: Dragon Age Oneshots [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718812
Kudos: 4





	“Who Could Ask You be Unbroken or be Brave Again?“

They’d taken her. They’d taken all of them. 

Trapped again but in a different way than before. 

What woke Yara was the sound of sobbing and Nola’s fervent prayers, head aching and reeling with confusion. She heard Shianni and the fear underneath the defiance in her cousin’s voice and jolted back to full awareness, seeing that they were trapped; _trapped_. 

Locked in a small room with two bolted doors and a group of elven women huddled in the farthest corner. Their group conferred in panicked and urgent tones, some proposing that they should do as the men wanted and try to forget about it afterwards. 

Why should they endure cruelty and humiliation? 

Why should they let themselves be violated for the sake of these petty shems and their selfish and cowardly fantasies?

Why should they be forced to be violated and live normally as if they could forget?

She told them to wait for her signal, she knew they could get out of this if she could just get her hands on a weapon, any weapon--as Yara and the others began to plan the door to their cramped and terror-filled chamber slammed open.

Armored men stood framed in the doorway, their eyes leering from beneath unpolished helmets, their posture confident in their cruelty. They asked for Shianni and the others but they weren’t asking. The guards’ gazes told the group everything they needed to know about what these men thought of them, of their kind. 

Nola stood up, shrieking, eyes wild with fear like an animal at the slaughter, curling up to shield herself even as she cried out in defiance. They cut her down as though she were vermin, and they might as well be, like rats in a trap. The captain’s lip curled in disgust as he pushed her corpse aside with his foot. Yara snarled, blood roaring through her ears as the guards advanced on the women. 

This couldn’t happen, this _wouldn’t_ happen, she _had_ to stop them, _had to strike!!_

The guards grabbed Shianni and the others and something was wrenched from Yara’s core at the sight of their hands on her kin. A primal scream ripped from her throat as she lunged for them, nails clawing at the men; hands grasping, fingers brushing against her cousin’s--

Cold, sharp metal against warm, unarmored skin as the guards held her back before shoving her head into the wall; blood veiling her gaze as she saw her cousin’s face streaked with tears, eyes wide with panic as she opened her mouth to scream, hand reaching out--the door slamming shut behind the guards, only two stragglers left to put her in her place, to tame her, to _torture_ her.

She bared her teeth at them, ignoring their comments on her being the scrapper. Her vision was red with blood and rage, Nola’s limp body butchered and sprawled on the ground of this foreign place, her family being carted off to be tormented at the whim of some _shem_ with status--she would rip out their throats if she had to but she wouldn’t let this happen, _couldn’t_ let this happen, _she needed to strike--_

The door opened and Soris’ nervous voice echoed in the small chamber, the guards turned and Yara heard the song of metal sliding against stone, and she reveled in the weight of the blades in her hand and the horror in the shems’ eyes as she slaughtered them as they had slaughtered her kin.

They made their way through the castle and through the guards; more than ever before Yara had the distinct sense she was a rat in a maze being led around for the amusement of these _shems_ ; that the pain and fear of her people meant nothing to these humans other than to be their fodder or an inconvenience. 

Nelaros was butchered just as Nola had been. Yara’s throat was raw and her chest aching with strain as she cradled him in her arms, watching the hollowness flood his gaze, body still warm as though taunting her with the impossibility he could be saved, but his life already gone. She hadn’t wanted this, not any of it; the good or the bad. But she hadn’t wanted _this_.

She looked down at her wedding dress, the one her mother had worn, now tattered and stained with blood; “an ornate dress for an auspicious day.” Soris watched her nervously, his eyes red and cheeks stained with tears as the choked laughter fell from her lips, ragged and almost manic, consumed for a moment in the absurd tragedy of it all; knowing that almost everywhere else in the castle, in the city, in Ferelden, that the _shems_ would be going about their day _none the wiser_ to their ludicrous suffering. 

When she opened the door to Vaughan’s room she was already numb with rage, the frenzy of her anger had dulled into detached and unfiltered fury, she barely broke a sweat as she cut down the men who had hurt Shianni. She barely registered the wounds she sustained or the remarks they made about what they thought of women and elves. Her gaze stayed trained on her cousin who lay in the middle of the room, clothes torn, one eye blackened and bleeding, face bruised and bloody--

She wanted to draw it out and make them suffer, like they had made _her_ suffer, like they had made _them all_ suffer, as they would suffer again, almost inevitably. So, she saved Vaughan for last; killing the other two quickly while she let this spoiled, rapist, _shem_ bleed out slowly; listened to the air pass through his lungs as he struggled to breathe; _what a waste_. 

_To know when it’s time to stop._

Yara didn’t watch him die; just walked past him as he choked on his own blood, hand reaching out to grab for her, as though to ask for her help. 

Her _help_? 

_Her help?_

She kicked his fingers away as they grasped for the hem of her dress, Soris hurrying around the carnage to unlock the door to the back room where they could hear the muffled cries of the other women. Yara barely registered the sobbing over the clanging sound of her blades against the stone floor as she reached out for Shianni before her knees could meet the ground, her cousin extending one arm to cling to her as she held the other against her ribs.

“D-don’t leave me alone...please... _please_ , take me home--”

“I would never leave you.”

“You killed them, didn’t you? You killed them all.”

“Like _dogs_ Shianni.” The twisted smile that flitted across her cousin’s face held no mirth, her lips trembling with the motion, almost more a contortion than a smile.

“Good. _Good_...”

They went home.


End file.
